


clutch

by cosywoo



Series: swallowed by the feeling [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: M/M, Tentacle Sex, Tentacles, seonghwa has tentacles i'm soRRY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-03-01 06:53:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23467189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosywoo/pseuds/cosywoo
Summary: Wooyoung’s seen something he wasn’t supposed to see.(aka seonghwa has some secrets under wraps)
Relationships: Jung Wooyoung/Park Seonghwa
Series: swallowed by the feeling [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1861576
Comments: 15
Kudos: 236





	clutch

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know how this happened but i feel like it's been a long time coming. went really nuts on this concept and u can tell because i've decided that double beds are a must. stay with me on this, don't think about it too hard. it gets domestic in places. happy birthday angel seonghwa <3

Wooyoung’s seen something he wasn’t supposed to see. 

For three weeks now, Wooyoung hasn’t been able to look Seonghwa in the eye, shimmying his way around on tables or couches whenever he’s near, just to be closer to someone else. He’s not being inconspicuous about it, that much is apparent from how everyone’s been asking him why he suddenly hates the eldest of them all, which he  _ doesn’t _ . He’s just going through a moment. 

It all started because he couldn’t sleep. Wooyoung had been all over the place with his schedule after a long few weeks of rehearsals and staying up with Yeosang, San and Mingi on alternating nights. Even Hongjoong was getting better sleep than him. 

“Just go take a fucking walk, please,” Yeosang had grumbled into his pillow, after a full hour of Wooyoung’s huffing and creaking and grunting, rolling around in bed in an impossible attempt to get comfortable. “Take your phone, go. I’m gonna die if I have to stay awake any longer.”

“And I won’t? What, you want me to die alone outside, Yeosang? You want someone to find me curled up on our doorstep dead from exhaustion or mugging?”

“Yes.”

Wooyoung aimed a kick to Yeosang’s leg once he was on the floor, pulling a thick coat from the closet and pulling it on over his sweats, huffing when Yeosang clearly seemed to be drifting off already. 

His walk did him no good. Wooyoung had walked up and down the street a few times, kneeling to stroke a wandering cat and staying put for twenty minutes when it decided it wanted a full on love session. That was fine. Not sleep inducing, but soft enough for him to relax a little. 

The real problem arose when he came home to see Seonghwa’s door open, just a crack, moving back and forth with a breeze, presumably a window left open. So Wooyoung, being the angelic sweetheart and kind friend he always has been, figured he’d sneak in and close it to save Seonghwa from hypothermia. 

Fuck him for being a good friend. 

Seonghwa’s room was as dark as the rest of their dorm, but Wooyoung could  _ hear _ something strange. Something wet and moving. For a moment, Wooyoung thought maybe Seonghwa’s been keeping worms in his room, or snakes in lube, or eels who don’t need water. 

His eyes adjusted slowly as he made his way to the window, stopping dead in his tracks before his fingers could close around the handle. Seonghwa was being eaten by an octopus. 

He seemed very relaxed about it, still sleeping peacefully, his breathing slow and calm and deep, arms wrapped comfortably around a pillow. The covers were half over him, draped over his waist and most of his lower half, leaving Wooyoung to look right at a pile of writhing tentacles, wrapping around each other lazily, snug around Seonghwa’s exposed calf. 

Wooyoung had left after a good few minutes of staring, only finding the motivation to move when it looked like one of them was about to try and reach for him across the six foot distance. Seonghwa would be dead in the morning, probably, leaving a fat octopus in his wake. 

But he wasn’t. And he still isn’t. In fact, he’s currently making breakfast, stood in his boxers and humming along to the radio, no sign of any octopus parts. Wooyoung says nothing, sliding down further into the couch cushions, his head in Jongho’s lap as he talks with Yunho about figuring out a better schedule for extra dance lessons. 

He’s been staring at the same section of article on his phone for ten minutes, locking it when he gives in to reality. He can’t stop freaking out about this. Wooyoung glances up at Jongho as he talks, watching him quietly. Does he know about Seonghwa? Surely someone must know. Maybe Hongjoong would, if anyone. Or San, who’s just as curious as Wooyoung. Or anyone, really. He can’t be the first one to find out. Whatever it is he’s found out. 

Wooyoung rolls off the couch when he can hear Seonghwa finding plates, calling a half assed excuse as he makes his way to Hongjoong’s room, grabbing one of Jongho’s hoodies on his way. It’s cold enough through the living room, but Hongjoong keeps his room like an ice box. 

“Hey,” he says as he enters, finding Hongjoong under the covers on his phone when he peels them back. He looks half asleep still. Wooyoung feels it hard. “Can I ask you something? Don’t laugh.”

Hongjoong narrows his eyes, moving to sit up against the pillows as Wooyoung pulls Jongho’s hoodie over himself, collapsing over the mound of duvet. “I hate it when you say shit like that. What’s wrong? Are you fighting with San again?”

Wooyoung frowns, rolling around to worm his way under the duvet, shuddering. “No! You’re so mean when you wanna be, hyung, I’m hurt,” he huffs, grabbing a hold of Hongjoong’s leg, burning hot. “I-... hm. Do you know if there’s anything… weird, with Seonghwa?”

They stare at each other. “Weird?” Hongjoong asks, blinking when Wooyoung nods. “Weird how?”

“Like, y’know. Weird. Strange. Different.”

“Are you fighting with  _ Seonghwa _ ?”

Wooyoung whines, biting at Hongjoong’s knee lazily. “I’m not fighting with anyone, Hongjoong! I’m just trying to figure something out,” he pouts, rolling onto his back and yawning. He’s exhausted, hasn’t been sleeping right ever since that night and all those things on Seonghwa. “You don’t know anything weird?”

“No? Are you okay? Do you need- I think you need some time off,” Hongjoong worries, putting his phone aside and sighing quietly. “You haven’t been sleeping well, I really think you should get some rest. You can have a few days, Wooyoung.”

“I don’t need a few days, I’m fine. I’m just asking a question. Next time you ask me something I’m gonna make someone else leader. Maybe Yunho,” Wooyoung diverts, smiling when Hongjoong gasps in outrage, kicking his leg out of Wooyoung’s grasp. “Hyung, I’ll take a day off. I’ll sleep everywhere and eat all the food and come back tomorrow and replace you as leader myself.”

He leaves Hongjoong’s room in a better mood, but with no clarity. If Hongjoong doesn’t know, then he doubts anyone else would. What if he’s the first one to find this out? Surely there would be something in their contracts about this if management knew. Fuck.  _ Fuck.  _ Wooyoung is the worst at keeping secrets, and now he’s keeping a secret from the person  _ with _ the secret. 

“Wooyoung?” Seonghwa startles him out of his stress meltdown outside Hongjoong’s door, plate of eggs and bacon in hand, offered to him. “I figured you could do with something to eat. You look peaky.” He looks concerned, resting a cool palm to Wooyoung’s forehead when he takes the plate. “Hm. Do you want me to get medical? I think you should take it easy today.”

Wooyoung burns under his touch, forking a piece of bacon and cramming it into his mouth in the hope it’ll sate Seonghwa. It doesn’t. “Hongjoong hyung gave me the day off, I’m gonna catch up on sleep. I’ll be fine,” he promised, relieved when Seonghwa nods and takes his hand away. “Thank you, though. For breakfast.”

“It’s fine, I made plenty. There are leftovers from dinner still in the fridge, if you want any,” Seonghwa offers, pulling idly at his tshirt. “Are we okay? I feel like I’ve done something.”

_ Hidden a bunch of squid parts in you _ , Wooyoung thinks. “We’re fine. I’m just tired, I’ll bully you after I’ve had a nap if you want,” he says after finishing a mouthful of eggs, glad when Seonghwa pushes at his shoulder. Even if he’s half octopus or whatever, he doesn’t wanna fight. Especially when he could break them out in a fight, maybe. 

He’s left to his own devices after a while, once San has made sure to kiss all over his face and Yeosang has tucked him into bed within an inch of his life. He lets himself drift in and out of sleep for a while, stirring with passing cars, people chatting outside, a dog that won’t shut up for the best part of half an hour. It isn’t sleep, but it’s  _ rest _ . 

When sleep does take him, he dreams. It’s the same in the day as it has been every time he’s managed to sleep in the night; vine like flesh at his wrists, holding his arms behind his back and curling upwards, pinning him to something invisible. It fills him with dread more than it does fear, usually waking with the feeling of them still on him. 

His dream doesn’t stop at the same place as usual this time. He’s held in place, whimpering when the vines wrap around his ankles, tightening when he tries to kick, too firm despite how slippery they feel against his naked body. He’s naked in these dreams, always. 

“They won’t hurt you, Wooyoung,” a voice echoes, making him struggle all the more against his captors, panting when he finds they won’t give him leeway. “Wooyoung. Jung Wooyoung, you can let it happen. Don’t be so scared.”

“ _ Wooyoung _ .”

Wooyoung snaps out of sleep, yelling into the mattress as he does, chest heaving. He’s sweating, despite Yeosang’s neat work being strewn all over the bed, most of the blankets around his legs. “God, fuck. Fuck!” he groans, sniffling and wiping his eyes before any water can escape. 

“Hey, Wooyoung, you’re alright,” Seonghwa says from behind him, only making things worse with how soft he’s being. He’s on the bed, shoes kicked off and rubbing Wooyoung’s back slowly, grounding him. “It’s okay, just a bad dream. You’re safe.”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung sniffles, leaning into Seonghwa’s touch and collapsing into his lap, more exhausted than he had been before he went to sleep, crying pathetically into Seonghwa’s black jeans. “I’m sorry, Seonghwa, I’m just so freaked out and everything’s weird.”

Seonghwa doesn’t push for more, stroking Wooyoung’s hair as he gets his tears out of his system. It isn’t fair. Of all of them, it had to be  _ Wooyoung _ to find out. “Do you want to talk?” Seonghwa asks after a moment, once the room is quiet again, no more sniffles or heaves. “It’s fine if you don’t. But I’m here.”

“I know about your octopus thing.”

Wooyoung presses his face hard into Seonghwa’s thigh once he’s said it, face flushing a red rainbow. He doesn’t want to think about what Seonghwa must look like, doesn’t even want to hear how his breath stills. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, muffled into his jeans. “It was an accident, I haven’t told anyone else.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath, Seonghwa’s hand is still in his hair, unmoving now. “My… octopus thing,” he repeats quietly, a hint of amusement in his tone. Wooyoung still doesn’t look up. This was probably all one big misunderstanding. “How did you find out? When?”

He’s not denying it. Fuck. Seonghwa is an octopus. 

“A few weeks ago. Your door was open and a draft was rolling through, so I came in to close it, and your covers were knocked back, and I thought an octopus was eating you? But I- I guess not? That would be weird anyway, because like, how is an octopus going to get into your room, but… I didn’t mean to find out.”

He dares to peek up, just for a second. Seonghwa’s expression is unreadable, unchanging even when Wooyoung sits up and keeps eye contact through his racing heart. “How much did you see?” he asks, sending a shiver rolling through Wooyoung’s spine. 

“Not much. Enough. A bunch of… things.”

“Things?”

Wooyoung nods. “Slimy things. Tentacle… things.”

“Ah,” Seonghwa says, relaxing his posture a little and nodding. “Okay. That makes more sense.”

“Does any of this make sense?” Wooyoung frowns, pulling the covers around himself when a shiver runs through him. “I don’t think so. I actually totally disagree. What, are you hiding an octopus in your room now?”

“They’re mine.” Wooyoung blinks. “The tentacles. They’re mine.”

“Oh. Shit.”

They sit in silence, Wooyoung’s brain travelling a mile a minute, considering the logistics of Seonghwa and tentacles and  _ his _ , and how any of that fits together without all of this being a bigger mess than he thought it could be. “Do you-”

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” Wooyoung stops him, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth and chewing nervously. “So… they’re- no, I don’t get it.”

“Do you have any questions you think might help?” Seonghwa offers, somehow completely unphased by Wooyoung knowing about this. “Or could I offer information? Whatever you-”

“Are they on you right now?” Wooyoung asks, staring at Seonghwa’s legs like they might start squirming upon being noticed. “How haven’t I seen them before? Am I the only one who knows?”

Seonghwa hums, crossing his legs. “You’re the first one to find out.”

“Ugh.”

“I know, it sucks. They’re-... they’re not  _ on _ me, but they’re here. It’s weird to explain, it’s like… they’re in storage right now,” Seonghwa explains, holding Wooyoung’s gaze. “Does that make sense?”

Wooyoung narrows his eyes. “Where are they?”

“Kind of. In me.”

“Alright, I’m taking a walk.”

Wooyoung clambers out of bed, grabbing what he’d intended to wear to rehearsal and dressing quickly, not caring if Seonghwa watches. Seonghwa’s got  _ tentacles _ in him. “Will you call Hongjoong?” he asks from the bed, when Wooyoung glances up he’s definitely looking, with more concern than interest. “I came back to see if you were okay. Tell him I’m staying, if that’s okay by you.” 

“Okay,” Wooyoung says, grabbing his phone from the nightstand when he’s dressed. “I’ll be back. Do you want anything? I can grab food,” he offers, suddenly feeling  _ very _ guilty for how sorry Seonghwa looks about things now. “I won’t be long, I just need to breathe some fresh air. There’s a really friendly cat down the street. You could come and meet her?”

“I’ll stay here, but thank you. I’m not hungry, I ate on the way,” Seonghwa says, pressing a kiss to Wooyoung’s cheek when he leans in expectantly. Even if he’s internally melting down, Wooyoung won’t leave without a kiss. “Be safe. I know this is a lot.”

“It’s fine,” Wooyoung lies, heading towards the door and shoving his phone into his pocket, “I can live. Sorry for asking a bunch of questions. I don’t think it’s a bad thing.”

He leaves before he can dig his hole deeper, marching to the door and bounding out of it like he’ll die if he’s not out of the house in under a minute. He sits on the doorstep for a hot minute, smiling weakly when someone walks past with three dogs in tow, all waggy and happy, the smallest pulling hard at the leash to give a hello lick to Wooyoung’s hand. 

Wooyoung isn’t allowed just one minute to himself apparently, because the pulling of one dog leads them all to him, demanding pets. “Am I okay to say hi?” he asks their presumed owner, even though the Maltese has already dipped its head beneath his palm and started the petting  _ for _ him. 

It kills five minutes, at least, and makes up for the cat not being out and waiting for him like she has been the past few days. He stands outside her usual fence of choice, pouting at the window when he sees her there, ginger and white and round. Can’t even confide in his new bestie. 

He calls Hongjoong when he’s off their street, settling in a patch of grass and flowers and laying back. “Hello?” Hongjoong asks when he picks up, “Wooyoung? Is that-  _ San, shut up! _ \- is everything okay?”

“I’m alright. Slept like shit, but it’s whatever,” Wooyoung sighs, shrieking when a bee tries to land on a fat daisy near his head. “I’m outside, taking a walk. Being attacked. Tell Sannie I say hi! How is everyone?”

“Hi Wooyoung,” San talks over the start of Hongjoong’s reply, most likely pressed against him, ear to ear. “We miss you, there’s less distractions without your-”

“Everyone’s fine,” Hongjoong takes over, Wooyoung can hear the power struggle when San yells, Hongjoong sounds out of breath, “Try to just chill, we aren’t doing too much so you aren’t missing out. Did Seonghwa-  _ ow _ !”

“Wooyoung, we’re all suffering,” it’s Yeosang’s turn now, followed by a loud thud and three groans. “Seonghwa managed to escape, but Hongjoong’s boring us all to death. Can you send us a picture for inspiration to carry on?”

Wooyoung opens his camera app as he listens to more fighting, snapping a quick picture (and ignoring that he looks half dead) and sending it to the groupchat. “Done,” he says, smiling when he sees the views pile in. “Tell Hongjoong I’ll send cake if he lets you come home earlier than ten.”

“You’re on speaker, I’m-”

“Nice face!”

“ _ Cake pics _ !”

“We’ll be home before ten if these assholes shut up and let us finish,” Hongjoong calls over San and Yeosang, starting another struggle over who can hold the phone. Wooyoung glances at the time at the top of his screen; it’s almost one. That means nine whole hours with Seonghwa to figure out the mess he’s worked his way into. 

“Mhmm, I’ll get Seonghwa to take pictures of me, totally. Love you all, okay?” Wooyoung says as he chews his bottom lip, hanging up once he’s witnessed the chorus of goodbyes from the rest of the boys left at rehearsal. No matter how weird things are, he loves all of them. That’s a comfort. 

He traipses back to the dorm when he’s had enough of bee harassment, returning to the sound of dishes clattering in the kitchen sink. Seonghwa’s rinsing them, turning to smile at Wooyoung and continuing his task. He needs to fix this. For the good of them all.

“I wanna see them.”

Seonghwa sets the dish in his hands down, turning the water off and facing Wooyoung with an intrigued look. “See…?”

“Your tentacles. Get them out,” Wooyoung says, parking himself on the couch and crossing his arms like he’s waiting to be shown a business offer. Seonghwa dries his hands on a towel, walking around and sitting beside Wooyoung on the couch, not looking like he’s about to get anything out. “I mean it. I need to see them so I can get the curiosity out of the way, and I’ll be fine.”

“You’re sure you don’t wanna talk it out first?” Seonghwa asks, pursing his lips when Wooyoung nods quickly. “Wooyoung, it’s not like. It isn’t like looking at a new-”

“I know, I saw them in the dark and I’ve been thinking about them for three weeks. But if you let me look at them properly, I won’t be wondering what they look like and if they’re going to sneak into my room at night and strangle me,” Wooyoung argues, nudging Seonghwa’s calf with his foot. “Here or bedroom?”

Seonghwa gives in when it’s apparent Wooyoung isn’t going to budge on the topic, standing and slipping his t-shirt off. “My room. I’m gonna have to be naked,” he warns, leading the way and holding the door for Wooyoung to follow. 

“We’ve had  _ sex _ , Seonghwa hyung. I’m not going to cry about your dick,” Wooyoung hums, flumping onto Seonghwa’s bed and wiggling his way under the covers, ending up sitting with the duvet wrapped around him, watching avidly as Seonghwa strips down to nothing. “Come on, Squidward.”

“Oh my god,” Seonghwa rolls his eyes, taking a steadying breath. He looks about as nervous as Wooyoung feels. “Don’t scream, okay?”

“I didn’t scream when I saw them first, I’m not going to know. I wanna meet them,” Wooyoung says, psyching himself up. “Is it meeting? Are they sentient? Do they have names?”

Seonghwa doesn’t answer, closing his eyes and relaxing his posture. Wooyoung watches, awestruck even if he can’t quite comprehend what he’s witnessing. It starts with a handful of oily black marks, blooming from spots to bruises to full, wide circles, birthing shining tendrils like ink from Seonghwa’s flesh. They stop short of the floor, and they  _ move _ , wrapping around each other, then Seonghwa’s legs, like legless centipedes feeling their way around their space. 

It carries on from there, layer on layer of slippery black, until Wooyoung can’t keep track of how many are newly emerged. The first few are the same, then slowly diverging to midnight blue every now and then, those different ones look more nimble, more curious. 

The final layers are by far the most different, blooming with little suckers grasping for something to latch on to, mouthing at the slick layers below and finding nothing solid to grip. Wooyoung stays still, staring at the writhing mass encompassing Seonghwa’s body, beautiful and inquisitive and  _ alive _ . 

“Oh,” he breathes, glancing up at Seonghwa and swallowing hard at how he’s watching him, his gaze intense and patient. “I-... they’re beautiful, Seonghwa hyung. I can’t believe I’m the first one to meet them.”

Meeting feels right, with how they squirm at his voice. Seonghwa looks relieved, humming softly and watching as Wooyoung pushes himself off the bed and sinks to his knees, still not quite close enough. “You can touch them,” he says, gasping like his words steal the air from his lungs. “They want to meet you too, Wooyoung.”

Wooyoung crawls forward, sitting cross legged in front of Seonghwa and glancing over the scene in front of him, unsure of how to start. He lifts a hand tentatively, gasping when one of the suckered tentacles meets it immediately, wrapping around his palm and coiling to his wrist, pulling softly at his skin. “Hello,” he whispers, shaking. 

When he tries to move his hand experimentally he isn’t stopped, instead the deep blue tendril moves with him, easing it’s grip for Wooyoung to pull away if he wants. He reaches his other hand out, lower, so one of the deeper limbs can reach him easily. 

He’s quietly thrilled when one of the thicker inky ones finds him, wrapping around his hand and snaking up and up and up, settling snugly around his arm and tugging just a little, pulling him closer into Seonghwa’s ever curious mass. The larger ones are bolder, already stroking lazily over wherever they can reach, not too overbearing. 

“Oh, Wooyoung-ah,” Seonghwa murmurs, petting a hand through Wooyoung’s hair and moving down to stroke his cheek, resting at his jaw. “They’re glad to meet you. They know you’re someone interesting.”

“Good, they have taste,” Wooyoung huffs out a laugh, looking up at Seonghwa and grinning as he shimmies closer. He regrets being fully dressed. “I like them, they’re… nice. Is nice the right word? I don’t know, I- yeah.”

Their instinct seems to be grabbing, content with sliding over any bare skin he has to be touched. He pulls back carefully, pulling his t-shirt off swiftly and resting his hands at the waistband of his sweatpants, glancing up at Seonghwa for guidance. 

“I think they’d like to see more of you,” Seonghwa says softly, all Wooyoung needs to shimmy his sweats down and off, his body vibrating with anticipation. He leaves his underwear on, moving forward again and waiting, close enough that they don’t have to reach out far. One particularly brave one moves straight to wrap around his throat, suckering over his skin like it wants to leave him marked. “Careful.”

“Can you feel through them?” Wooyoung asks, groaning when one of the first tentacles that had emerged explores his waist, pulling tight and beckoning him to move with it, closer against the rest of them. They’re a deceptively sturdy surface, so many of them layered on top of each other that he can lean into them, his face resting between tendrils, relaxing into their hypnotic pulsing. “Seonghwa, are they sensitive? Can they really feel me?”

The pressure around his throat is comforting, his calm only increasing when his thighs are explored, pushed further apart by the girth of the two tentacles against each other, pressed right up against his hardening cock. He’s being pulled further again, deeper into the mass, his fingers grasping idly at thick, slippery bases. 

“I can feel with them, Wooyoung, and they can feel you,” Seonghwa answers him finally, somewhere distant and above, tutting as Wooyoung is yanked forwards. He moves his hips down, gasping when he feels friction against his dick and humping against it, panting and moaning. “What do you want from them?”

Wooyoung can’t form words, his head cloudy with need as he basks in pleasure, rubbed every which way and not even close to being touched how he needs. He opens his mouth, running his tongue slowly along the ridges of one of the tentacles. It’s slick with fluid, sweet and moreish as he laps again, swallowing when he has enough of a mouthful. 

He whimpers when he’s pushed away slowly, out of the close clutch of tentacles and back into Seonghwa’s room, grabbing pointlessly at the slender limbs that pull from his arms. He’s left on his knees, panting weakly and gazing up at Seonghwa, waiting for more. 

“Tell them what you want. You’re both getting carried away.”

Wooyoung flushes, gazing down like he’s being scolded. He can still taste sweetness on his tongue, like honey. There are little red blotches over his arms and thighs where he’s been held by the suckered tentacles, tender to the touch. He shudders at the thought of what his throat must look like. 

“I want them in me,” Wooyoung whispers, reaching out to hold one of them in his shaking grasp, glad when it wraps to meet him. He feels a little lost, so open to the elements after being surrounded, almost a cocoon of fleshy vines that  _ want _ him, another part of Seonghwa that he’s only now discovering. “I want you inside me, Seonghwa, will you let them?”

Seonghwa looks down hungrily at him, nodding and biting his bottom lip, enough communication to let Wooyoung know that this is what he wants, too. “How far? I don’t want them hurting you, I won’t let that happen. But I want to know boundaries,” he says, lifting Wooyoung’s chin when his eyes drift over his tentacles, restless and beckoning him to return to their clutches. “Just tell me, and I’ll let them fuck you however you want.”

“I need them,” Wooyoung whimpers, trembling when the tentacle in his hand almost nuzzles his palm, looking for more from him. His brain is working overtime to try to piece a sentence together, too focused on his immediate, aching need. “I need them in me, I want them to use me however they want. I wanna be full until I can’t  _ move _ without your permission.”

“Bed,” Seonghwa commands, watching as Wooyoung stands on shaky legs, letting go of the tentacle in his palm and settling to sit back against the pillows, pulling his boxers down swiftly when he’s sure this is really happening. Part of him regrets begging for the rest of the group to come home by ten, or at all. “Are you sure about this? You can say no.”

“I’m sure,” Wooyoung promises, squirming against the sheets impatiently as his mind races, his dick hard and hot and bobbing against his belly whenever his hips twitch. He lets out a breath of anticipation when something cool and firm wraps around his left ankle, then his right, pulling him further down the bed without much effort. 

Seonghwa hasn’t moved much, but his tentacles have little issue in exploring their new territory, feeling over every little dip and curve they can find, curling to keep him in place as they see fit. “I need you to give me a safeword or something, Wooyoung,” he says, moving closer when Wooyoung takes a moment to register. “Is our usual one okay? Tell me what it is.”

“Perfume, it’s perfume,” Wooyoung whispers, keening when Seonghwa is closer, feeling the dip in the bed as he settles. Despite how supple they are, his tentacles are  _ strong _ , bearing his weight with ease as he dips to kiss Wooyoung softly, a hand moving his hair and tugging lightly. “Seonghwa…”

“I know,” Seonghwa purrs, palming over Wooyoung’s leaking cock with his other hand, not enough to bring him over the edge, just enough to keep him balancing. His thighs are covered with thick, squeezing coils, prying them apart again, this time further and up until his lower back is lifted from the bed. Wooyoung whines, there isn’t enough traction for him to move beyond a hig wiggle, and even that doesn’t provide the friction he needs. 

He pants through his need for a few moments, coping despite the ache until the upper layers of tendrils get a grasp over his chest, settling suckers comfortably over his nipples and pulling at his sensitive buds. It’s the only place he’s getting some form of relief, only working to drive him further to desperation, wailing when Seonghwa’s hand leaves his cock, pulling at his hair to prompt him to be quiet. It doesn’t work, it never has. 

“Wooyoung, do you want the boys to come home to you like this? At the mercy of my tentacles, desperate to come and crying for attention?” Seonghwa asks, his tone is warning, Wooyoung knows it all too well. It’s not just a threat; the last time he tested it, he was left with his wrists tied to Yunho’s bedpost, Seonghwa’s briefs pushed into his mouth for him to drool all over, a thick silver ring at the base of his cock. He loves it when Songhwa gets like this. He’s not trying it again, shaking his head and whimpering when the slender tip of a tentacle caresses his entrance, curious. “Do I need to shut you up? I can get your mouth nice and full, you’ll have to snap your fingers if you need a break. You want that?”

Wooyoung nods hastily, begging “yes, yes Seonghwa, please yes,” when he feels cool ridges against his cheek. His tongue hangs out of his mouth as he pants, humming when the tentacle is close enough for him to lick, its sweet taste filling his mouth again. 

He writhes despite the hold Seonghwa has on him when the tentacle doesn’t just pause to let him do all the work, weighing nice and heavy on his tongue as it presses further into his mouth. It curls against the roof of his mouth for a moment, Wooyoung thinks maybe it’s just teasing until it becomes apparent that it wants to fill him. 

The tip is slender, manageable. But the more it spirals in his mouth, the further his jaw has to open to accommodate, his lips stretching wide around the thickest part of the tendril. He manages to swallow despite how stuffed his mouth is, his insides warm at how good it tastes, thick fluid spilling from his lips when he can’t manage enough. 

The suction on his nipples is almost painful now, unrelenting and constant, the opposite of the prodding at his hole. His arms are pinned loosely to the bed, he could easily move them if he wanted, half wishing they were held more firmly. He tries pointlessly to beg for more, choking on spit and slick fluid for his attempt. 

Wooyoung quiets after a few moments of adjusting, nudging his hips down and mewling when the tentacle presses close against his rim and stays there, breaching slowly. It’s much skinnier than the others, pushing inside him without much resistance, helped by its slippery surface. It’s enough to sate him a little, the slow back and forth opening him up, each thrust a little deeper. 

Seonghwa’s gaze burns into him when Wooyoung looks up, totally in control and happy to sit and watch as he’s stuffed and sated, one hand still gripped in his hair. It’s steadily getting harder to breathe, it must show in his face with how Seonghwa croons at him, pressing a kiss to his temple. 

“Need some relief?” he asks, the thick spiral of inky black tendril in Wooyoung’s mouth slowly easing out when he manages to nod, letting him pant around what stays, heavy on his tongue. “Good boy, you’re doing so well. So greedy for them, aren’t you?”

Wooyoung’s moan is muffled, his eyes roll back when his prostate is nudged, the pressure only continuing when he clenches weakly around the tentacle. It isn’t much to take, a little smaller than Seonghwa’s own cock, but the slow pulse inside him makes him ache for more, a deeper push, a thicker stretch. 

He hollows his cheeks comfortably around the tentacle in his mouth, suckling contentedly and settling, almost comfortable with both holes being used. His prostate is left alone for a moment as the tentacle presses further, ridge after ridge rubbing against it as the tip rests far beyond what Wooyoung has felt before. 

It stills its pushing, but Wooyoung can still feel it pulsing, working relentlessly to keep him worked up, until it releases deep inside him. He yelps around the tentacle in his mouth, tears pooling in his eyes and spilling over when the tendril pushes in once more, pulling out of him slowly, still pumping thick, sticky fluid inside him. 

It must be over, Wooyoung thinks when he’s painfully empty, leaking whatever’s been flooded into him despite his weak clenching. He swallows steadily, moaning softly when Seonghwa presses a kiss to his forehead, pitying him. “There’s my good boy. Just a little more, I know you can take it,” he murmurs, fingers trailing over Wooyoung’s throat and applying pressure, laughing when his eyes roll and flutter. “You want this stuffed too, don’t you? Not just your mouth. Think I’ll be able to see myself, Youngie?”

He doesn’t have time to let that idea settle before he’s nodding and it’s happening, Seonghwa helping the slow slide as he pulls Wooyoung’s head by his hair, tilting back against the pillows so his tentacle can ease itself without much resistance. He breathes hard through his nose, his chest heaves as he adjusts to the stretch trembling when he can feel Seonghwa squeezing over his throat, moaning quietly. 

Wooyoung would relish in the fact that Seonghwa’s feeling all this, too far gone in his own pleasure to think about anything beyond the sensations in his body, every tingle and squeeze and slide. Another tentacle prods at his hole, blunt and wider than the first, rubbing until he’s shaking in their grasp. He’d beg if he could, resorting to staring at Seonghwa with wide, wet eyes, pleading silently. More fluid seeps beyond his throat as the tentacle moves back slowly, apparently as reluctant to leave his mouth as he is to be left empty, panting and swallowing the sweet coating on his tongue.

“Too much?” Seonghwa asks, throaty and suddenly concerned. He looks fucked out already, but he still takes a moment to let Wooyoung breathe, pressing a kiss to his cheek like Wooyoung isn’t actively writhing for  _ more _ . “We can-”

“I need you in me, hyung,” Wooyoung begs, moving to kiss him desperately and shaking with relief when Seonghwa meets his lips, holding Wooyoung’s face between his palms and kissing him slowly, no urgency as his tongue trails along Wooyoung’s bottom lip. The tentacle over his chest tightens its wet sucking over his nipples before pulling off, leaving him keening and whimpering when Seonghwa reaches down to pinch one, over sensitive like he’s never experienced before. 

The tentacle at his entrance breaches, immediately thicker than the first one had been and mercifully not as explorative. Wooyoung doesn’t think he could handle the same coiling from this one, already more of a stretch and only getting wider the further it presses, moaning loud and high when Seonghwa pulls back from their kiss to tongue over his other nipple. “Are you close, sweetheart? Can’t take much more, hm?”

Wooyoung nods with as much energy as he can muster, almost blacking out when Seonghwa wraps a hand around his cock and squeezes at his base, his body jolting as the tentacle inside him drags over his prostate, pulling back slowly and thrusting deep. It’s enough force to push him deeper into the mattress, panting and keening as Seonghwa moves his hand, stroking in tandem with the tentacle inside him. 

“I- ngh, hyung,” Wooyoung breathes, whining when his thighs are lifted and spread further, giving the tendril easier access to his hole, grasping weakly at the air. Tingling rolls through his whole body as Seonghwa thumbs over his tip, scraping his teeth over Wooyoung’s nipple. “Let me…  _ please _ ,”

“You can come,” Seonghwa grants him, cooing when Wooyoung cries through his orgasm, eyes rolling back as he goes wholly slack in the grip of Seonghwa’s mass of tendrils. “Good, so good. My good boy,” he praises, his hand still moving, faltering along with the tentacle still working in and out of Wooyoung, easier now he’s gasping and pliant. “Can I-”

“Please,  _ pleasecomeinme _ ,” Wooyoung begs, groaning at how the tentacle presses  _ deeper _ , the same squeezing and contracting inside him as the first one, only heavier. Seonghwa rests his head against Wooyoung’s shoulder and breathes hard against his flesh, groaning when Wooyoung clenches weakly, stilling inside him as he pants. “Seonghwa, you feel so good inside me, I want you to come, please come, I want it so bad-”

They’re both reduced to twitching through barely audible moans when Seonghwa releases, the whole mass of his layers and layers tensing and holding Wooyoung firm and tight through their rippling. Wooyoung’s eyes roll back as he jolts through a dry orgasm, the first to make any tangible noise as he squeaks, his hips rock back weakly to welcome slippery friction. He’s full, full to the brim and blissed out as the tentacle rocks slowly inside him, pulsing more come until he can feel it in his fucking guts. 

“Seonghwa,” he whispers, Seonghwa murmurs against his shoulder, half off the bed and still held up with sturdy tendrils, like they’re on autopilot. He feels safe, held tightly but with no pain, cradled in their grasp and keeping him spread open. “Are you awake, hyung?”

“Mph,” Seonghwa huffs, moving a little to press a kiss to Wooyoung’s shoulder. The tentacle inside him eases out in measured, languid movements, like it’s taking its time to save him any pain. “It got overwhelming, I guess. First time they’ve ever been out like this.”

Wooyoung’s brain starts buffering, it’s a lot to think about. He feels trusted beyond belief, the first to really meet them at all and Seonghwa’s granted all of this. He’s lower to the bed now, a gasp catches in his throat when the thick ridge of the tentacle rolls over his prostate, finally leaving him a few moments later. “Thank you.”

Seonghwa presses close again, the tentacles wrapping around Wooyoung limbs draw back, leaving him to sink into the mattress. He feels like he’s made of heavy liquid more than flesh, unmoving from where he’s left. “Thank  _ you _ . I’ve been worried about telling you,” Seonghwa murmurs, wrapping his arms around Wooyoung’s waist. “They appreciate it. You’re sweet.”

“You’re sweet, too. And they are. Do you all count as one?” Wooyoung asks, infinitely glad when the tentacles aren’t gone immediately, instead coiling loosely around his legs. 

“Still working it out. I think so, but it’s still a learning process,” Seonghwa speaks like he’s on another plane of existence, more so than he usually does after sex. Wooyoung’s cheeks burn, he finds the energy to roll onto his side, cupping Seonghwa’s cheek and kissing him softly. “It was okay? You can tell me if it wasn’t, I want to know.”

“Seonghwa hyung, it was perfect,” Wooyoung breathes, settling comfortably and watching Seonghwa’s face for a moment, still blissful and soft. “Thank you for sharing this with me, Seonghwa. I know it must be a lot, but it was amazing. Please believe me.”

“I do,” Seonghwa nods, opening his eyes and pressing their foreheads together gently. “I do, Wooyoung. I’m just coming down. Feel like I came my lungs out.”

Wooyoung snorts, giggling when Seonghwa narrows his eyes. “Is it really that much?” He’s welcomed by the tentacles when he moves closer, stroking curiously over him, enveloping his lower half until all he can see is Seonghwa’s writhing tendrils beyond his hips. 

“It’s that much. Especially the first time,” Seonghwa says softly, smiling faintly when Wooyoung relaxes against him, full of trust and warmth. “Tired?”

“Hm, no. I just feel good,” Wooyoung hums, tingling at how Seonghwa holds him closer, their noses bumping together lightly. “I’m gonna name every one of them.”

“No you aren’t.”

“Yes I am, right now.”

Seonghwa pulls him into a kiss to shut him up. It works. 

**Author's Note:**

> [feel free to say hi on my twitter!](http://twitter.com/gaywooyoungie)


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